Where's that Wind Shear?

Yesterday, I came within 1000 feet of Precedent Shitgibbon.

Or Captain Ouchie Foot.

Or the Mangled Apricot Hellbeast, as the Brits like to call him.

Given my lava-hot hatred for this thing that calls itself our leader and my uncontrollable tendency to "color outside the lines", you'd think such proximity would warrant the attention of the Secret Service.

But as you can see from the picture above, the distance that separated us was vertical not horizontal. It was 1000 feet as the dead crow flies.

While fundraising in Los Angeles the president's entourage flew directly over my backyard. Rudely disturbing my precious hammock naptime.

By design, there's no way to tell which MV-22 Osprey is transporting Colonel Fucknugget, but if I, a self-admitted student of this man-child's behavior had to guess, I'd say it's the first one.

"I hereby decree that in all motorcades, on the ground or in the air, my vehicle shall always be first so as not to leave any confusion. And so the people can see their favorite president, that's me, not Obama, in the lead position, where I should always be, because I'm president and you're not. The End."

No sooner had I snapped this shot did many, just like it, appear on the Unofficial Culver City Facebook Page. One quick thinking CC resident even managed to work a last second middle finger into the shot, which left me incredibly jealous.

Though it should be noted my wife and daughter came running out of the house when they heard me screaming (quite reflexively and without thought) at the gaggle of Ospreys.

"FUCK YOU!!!"
"FUCK YOU!!!"
"FUCK YOU!!!"

Is there a point to any of this?

No, there is not.

Suffice to say, I achieved more in my 2.7 seconds of unleashed rage than the House Judiciary Committee did in their 5 hours of testimony from Herr Grupenfuhrer Corey Lewandowski -- a flaccid, shameful display of Democratic fecklessness which has given birth to a new nickname.

Representative Jerrold Nadless